The Singed-Bra Incident
by Sirrah's Shenanigans
Summary: Of the infamous 'morning after', with just a bit more confusion than expected. And just a bit more shame in the walk of shame.


This was written and published in a moment of boredom on the 5th of August of 2015.

 _Pairing:_ Darcy Lewis/ Johnny Storm (I'll call it TaserTorch.)

 _Fandom:_ Thor / Fantastic Four - Crossover

 _Setting:_ Post-Thor 2 (you don't need to have seen it to get it) and a coupe of years after the Fantastic Four? Doesn't matter much. Just… Johnny isn't sixteen or seventeen anymore. [Edit 2016: Also, this is the Fantastic Four movie with Chris Evans, obviously]

 _Genre:_ Humor. And, if that is a genre, then 'the morning after'. It should be it's own genre.

 _Length:_ One shot of 3.9k words

 **The Singed-Bra-Incident**

So, Darcy is not the kind of girl who regrets life choices. It's not because she never makes stupid life choices – some of her choices actually had the potential to be the wonderful beginning of a disaster- or a horror-movie. Apocalypse now, yes please. Or even Sharknado-level of stupid. But she just refused to regret them. What was the point, really? She was more the "shrug, okay, let's move on now"-person. It was what got her through high school and through the major chunk of college, too.

When woke up this morning she tried to mentally go through what had happened at that "Welcome back to America"-party last night. Any regrettable things she would refuse to regret? She wasn't sure. There was a lot of blackness.

What she noted, though, her eyes still closed, was that it was terribly hot in her bed. Hot on a level that she considered the possibility that she might have accidentally brought a microwave home from the party, instead of a guy. She had set out with the goal to bring home a guy, but maybe her literal hunger had been bigger.

Was she even at home? Tentatively she reached out to her left and just hit it. Whatever it was, it was too hot, and it had to go away. Whether this was really her bed or not.

She heard a very human groan. Okay. Had she brought home a sick guy with a fever, or something? Oh goddamn. Would just be her luck. "What the hell…? What was that for?" Okay, human, male voice. Didn't sound very sick, though. Didn't sound familiar either.

Which ... was a good thing. She had the vaguest of memories that somehow _Captain America_ had been at the party, or something, and it would have been awkward if she had jumped his bones. Which she would _totally_ be up for, but somehow she doubted that the guy was much of a one-nighter-type and she was not really up for any committed relationship. However patriotic it might be to do the hokey-pokey with Captain 'Merica.

She felt a very hot hand kind of searchingly placed on her hip, and then moving upwards. She swatted it away. Shit, that guy was burning up, wasn't he? Though his hands were dry. But this was just getting to iffy for her. She yawned and forced herself to turn her head slowly to her left. And open one eye in slow-mo, because that was all she could bring herself to do right now.

Err. Short blonde hair, slight stubble, determined chin. She shut her eye much quicker than she had opened it. "Oh goddammit _fucking_ hell." Now it was her who groaned. Was that a patriotic face in her bed? Just… how?!

She heard the guy chuckle in a kind of still-sleeping manner. "You curse like a sailor. Overslept?" It was more mumbling than speaking on his part, really, but somehow… it was off. This wasn't Steve's voice. She forced both of her eyes open. Maybe she was just not really awake.

Err. Nope. God.

It looked like the Star-Spangled Man alright, somehow, but also somehow not. She squinted. His face looked softer than she remembered it. Maybe a tad bit younger, though that could be the light. She could only see his face anyway, because had wrapped himself in most of the red blanket from neck to toes.

She glanced around the room half-heartedly. Not her room. There was a poster with a surfer in a wall. And a surf-board. And an e-guitar. Not what she had expected from Steve – she couldn't make out a flag yet – but, most importantly, not her room. So she could flee. Not that she felt much up for a walk of shame right now, but what had to be done had to be done.

She glanced back at the face. Okay. Now she really saw what was off. His hair. Oh god. Had she shaved his _hair_ off? Just how drunk had she been last night? It suited him, but he had kept his hair so carefully trimmed… he would hate her. Because she was sure that it had been her. She was the queen of stupid-drunk-decisions. She had once given a girl from college a drunken makeover hat had involved some shaving as well.

"Fuck me." She cursed under her breath, sitting up with as much strength and speed as she could muster. Which was not much. Frantically, her eyes darted through the room. Her clothes. Where were her clothes? She couldn't see any clothes at all?

Again that chuckle. And then he reached out for her, one hand sneaking up to her waist. "Gladly. Just let me wake up first, 'mkay?"

She pressed both of her palms against her forehead, her elbows resting on her bent knees. She didn't have the power to push the hand away, as he started drawing lazy circles on her hip now, she just barely managed to turn her head enough to glance at him. He had his eyes open now. Somehow, his eyes were a darker shade of blue than she remembered, but she could be wrong. It's not like she saw him on a daily basis, she was mostly in the lab and he was… well, not. God.

He seemed really relaxed though. Oh hell. This would be so so _so_ awkward if he wanted this to be… to be a _thing._ "Yeah. Right. Okay. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure it was… very… nice, last night, but I really need to… leave."

He simply grinned. _Grinned_. She wasn't sure she ever saw Steve grin. Usually it was more of a smile, really. "Nice isn't the word I'd use. I'd say it was _hot_. But sure, suit me fine, babe. I'm not much of the breakfast-after-type either."

Darcy couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. Babe, huh? Someone sure felt cocky this morning. Was Steve still drunk? Not completely out of the loop, if one thought of how they got here. Steve had to have been drunk to do this. Terribly drunk. Very, very terribly drunk. "Really? Well. I think we should talk about this when you're more sober and I'm more… clothed, okay? If you still say that then it's all fine and dandy. I just… I really don't want this to bite us in the ass later, okay?"

She tugged the blanket away from him, shamelessly, to wrap herself in it as she got up to start looking for her clothes. She had to fight the urge to at least glance at him – because she really had no memory of humping his fine booty, and it would be such a shame to go without a final glance at the body that was perfection and that she wouldn't get to see again, right? But maybe it was safer that way. _Because_ there was just no way of this happening again. Ever. And you can't miss what you can't remember having had.

She heard something move on the mattress, and a stifled yawn. "Awkward? There's nothing awkward about two hot people burning some calories together. Not with me, anyway. No need to worry. If you want to exchange numbers for a re-run of this, to freshen up your memory or something you just need to say so, bunny. And your clothes are in the kitchen, if you're looking for 'em. I think I singed your bra, though."

 _Singed?_ Darcy rightened herself, trying to keep the horror from her face. What, had they been trying to cook something during the first home run? She might revise her stance on that 'no regrets'-policy. That had been one of her favourite bras. Really, though, Steve was behaving weird. Was he trying to prove a point? Awww hell.

 _Don't think too much about it now_ , she scolded herself. Flee now, try to fix this later. She gathered some more of the blanket up. "Great. Okay. I'll… see you, then, I guess." She glanced back over her shoulder, and at him.

He sat in his bed with his legs stretched out, leaning against the head piece, his arms crossed behind his head in a very self-assured and relaxed posture. In all his naked glory. She blinked, he grinned, and she tried not to look too hard. Damn. No. A part of her told her that something was just wrong about Steve, but she didn't feel like taking notes now. She tried a smile, and then almost tripped over the blanket hurrying out.

Aaand the search for the kitchen might get difficult. Okay. Where the hell as she? She walked a few steps out of the room, and then stood on some balcony or something, looking into a very big, half-round-open room. With a glass-front. And there were things standing in the room that reminded her vaguely of Puente Antiguo. Was this a fucking lab? What the hell?

She knew that Steve had a place aside from the one in Stark's Tower. She knew this because he had mentioned that he wanted a place in Brooklyn, where he had been born. But what she saw outside was not Brooklyn. It was Manhattan. And this was no 'small place' either. Had Tony put him here? Was this like… a second lab for him? She pushed her hair out of her face with a frustrated growl. Then she looked back over her shoulder again. She hadn't closed the door completely. "Hey, where exactly is the kitchen?" she called out.

"Down the stairs, first door left." Came the reply. He sounded amused. And still not like Steve. Maybe there was something wrong with her ears. Or that was the fever. How could he even have a fever? Weren't super soldiers supposed to be immune to sicknesses of all kinds? She should have listened better when Jane had explained it all.

Darcy hurried down the stairs to her right, and was just relieved that she found the kitchen exactly where Steve had said. Though it was… in a wild state. Okay. There were her clothed and his. All over the place. She was mortified to see her bra hanging from the ceiling fan. And, yep, it was singed. She cursed and gathered her clothes up. She considered gathering his clothes as well, but she didn't feel this generous right now. And her bra? Well. She tried to, but she couldn't fucking reach it, and she didn't feel like climbing up on something.

With a glance over her shoulder – praying that Stark wasn't around and would burst in now – she started to change. And she was sure that she's never changed so quickly. It would be… a very fun walk of shame, she decided, as she looked down on herself. A mid-tight tartan skirt, knee-high black doc-martins, and a white crop-top with Metallica printed on it. Not to forget her black leatherjacket and the black hat. Yep, true to the theme of a 90s party. She scoped her hair up to stuff it under the hat again and sighed. White top and no bra. And in her old panties. Great. That's why she hated the mornings after.

She briefly considered saying goodbye and bringing the blanket back up before leaving, but she was not ready to deal with a still-drunk, cocky Steve in all his naked glory or her less-respectable self might really consider his offer for another go at it. Because, you know, this was not happening again any time soon. But. Nope.

She had places to be, she reminded herself. And she needed to sneak into her room in the tower, shower and re-dress before Jane might start to miss her in the lab. And, most importantly, before Stark noted her absence. He would gloat. Oh, she could hear the patriotic-slash-deflowering-jokes already. Not that she thought it had been Steve's first time, but it wouldn't keep Stark from making his jokes, would it? Right.

What she did, though, was to take the sticky-note-block she saw and left him her mobile number. Just in case. Jarvis could give it to him, probably, but she knew that she was sometimes paranoid using Jarvis for anything, too. Like. Stark would probably be informed the second Steve asked for her number, when he was sober and wanted to sort this out. She opted against leaving her name on the note, though. Just in case Tony or Bruce saw it first, or whoever owned this lab. She suspected that he would know what it was all about anyway. Wasn't too subtle, right?

She sighed, grabbed her jacket and left as silently as she could. This was why she didn't do 'friends with benefits'. Not worth the drama and the hassle. Urgh. In the elevator, she hit her head against the wall, hoping that she would remember this the next time she decided to get wasted. Check for friends on the party first. Okay.

Johnny felt thoroughly refreshed and happy when he woke up again and went down to the kitchen to grab some coffee. He was amused when the first thing he saw was her bra still hanging from the ceiling fan. Decided to leave a little souvenir for him, did she. Well, she had spunk.

He had been reluctant to go to that party at first. It was a common place party. A friend from college had invited him, to welcome back a friend of a friend who had been doing an internship with some science lady in England. He knew neither. Though he vaguely remembered that that scientist was someone Reed seemed to hold in high esteem.

Truly, he had just allowed himself to be dragged there because Reed had behaved like a little schoolgirl when Chris had mentioned the name of the woman. Whatever it had been. Janine? Joana? Whatever. Somehow it had tickled his interest when Sue had said that she knew her, too. Because she was together with _Thor._ A fucking god. That woman had to rock, right? And he had wanted to meet Thor some time anyway. Sue and Richard had already met him, and it was decidedly unfair that he hadn't. The Avengers were a cool bunch. They had nothing on _them,_ of cause. But, well, what the hey.

He had hoped to see Thor and his girl there. But he really couldn't remember if he had met anyone at all, aside from that curvy personified wet dream. He had a very fragmented memory of having joined her in a drinking contest, some arm wrestling and then some very tight dancing. And then they had ended up in the kitchen first and then standing up in the hallway, and then made it to the bedroom. That was the part he remembered the most. He had meant it when he had offered her another round, she had _fire._

It was just good for him that Sue and Richard were on some sort of second honeymoon, and that Benny-Boy was with Alicia. They would have woken up anyone last night. Damn. He chuckled into his cup and started looking for something edible when he saw the little note at the fridge. ' _Call me when you're sober. Don't start regretting this, okay? Nothing has to change. We're still good. Just, please, call me before you talk to Tony or Thor about this.'_ And then there was a number. He frowned, scratching his chin. What? Who was Tony? Thor? Why would he… oh.

Fuck, no.

Frantically, he tried to remember anything Richard had said in his gushing about the scientist. Anything about her looks? Brown hair. Small. And Sue had said she was as pretty as she was clever. Right. Oh, hot shit. Had he slept with Thor's girl? Shit, that would be so like him. "Fuck." He hit his head against the fridge. Goddamn. The hell would he do a second round. Thor would _kill him_. Or, worse, _castrate him._ He was too pretty to die. Nope. Like she wrote, nothing has to change.

He ran up to his room to get his mobile, and pounding the number in. It took a moment, and then he heard the voice. "Hi, Goddess of Tasers speaking. And this is?" She sounded surprisingly cheerful. Okay.

He tried to keep cool. "Ah, it's me. Johnny. Look, okay, I didn't really know what you were talking about earlier`? I get it now. I don't want your boyfriend to kill me. We'll just not talk about this, alright?"

There was a pause at the other end. "Err, sorry, I think you have the wrong number. I know no Johnny."

He heard a male voice in the background. "Jane, can you look at this data quickly, please?"

And a woman replying "Sure, Bruce, give me a sec."

Oh, god, someone else had picked up her phone. Or she had given him the number of her work-phone. She was in the lab, right? Data sounded like a word used in a lab. "Ah, I get it, you're the assistant. Sorry, my mistake, babe. I just really need to speak with Jane, okay?"

He heard a pause. And then he heard someone inhale deeply. The woman spoke again – she did sound oddly like the girl from this morning – but she wasn't speaking directly into the phone. "Hey, Jane, I need to step out and. I'll be back in five, okay?"

"Sure, Darcy, take you're time. I'll be busy with this for a while."

Okay, this was getting weird. Impatiently, he started scratching his still naked chest, slightly worried. Why wasn't the assistant handing the phone to her boss? Or had Jane left instructions to deal with this? "Look. Steve. I don't think that we need to use cover-names, _babe._ It's not that much of a drama, okay? I just want to make sure that we're on the same page about this." She sounded tense but also a bit like she was talking to a child.

He frowned. Okay and she did sound like the girl he had slept with. Had he been… jumping to conclusions or something? Maybe he had slept with the Assistant. That was okay. But why would she tell him not to tell Thor? What would Thor care about this? Or… wait, okay, the idea was kind of hot. Maybe it was a threesome. "If we don't need cover names – which I'm all for, because that would really be over the top – why are you calling me Steve, then? I don't get this. What is going on?"

Silence met his words. And when she spoke, again, she sure sounded a lot less confident. "… Because Steve is your name. God. Please tell me you're not still drunk. Or having amnesia. It's enough that I am the one with no memory whatsoever of what the hell happened. Oh god oh god. _Fuck._ "

He couldn't help but grin a bit. Yep, sure the girl from this morning. The same mixture of panic, frustration and sexy cursing. Her voice had a bit of a rough edge when she cursed. He liked that. And it was kind of cute how she was trying to cover up that she didn't remember anything. Cute and maybe a bit weird. "I'm pretty sure my name is not Steve. It's Johnny. Jonathan Storm. Don't blame yourself, though, it's not like we formally introduced each other before having mind-blowing sex."

Another pause and he could hear her sucking air in again. "Oh." And then " _Oh."_ And then, slightly louder. " _I get it!_ You're that guy! Hold it a sec, I'll google you. Just to make sure."

He heard some typing, and couldn't help to smirk. "Do that, babe." He knew exactly what she'd see. He had googled himself before, too. And he was pleased with the pictures of himself in his flaming glory. And some shirtless pictures from some photoshoots never hurt either.

Her reaction was a bit surprising though. There was laughter, really relieved laughter. "I should have seen it. How could I ever think you're him? You're way slimmer and more lean than Steve. Oh god, that takes a load off my mind."

What? Lean? He had muscles. He wasn't _slim_. 'Slim' was the nice way of saying 'scrawny'. And then it clicked. He scowled. "You're kidding, right? You thought I was Captain America."

She laughed again, though she had the decency to sound a bit sheepish. "Yeah, sorry. My mistake."

Un-fucking-believable. It had happened before, yeah, and he had not minded much. Because, honestly, the guy was a cool dude. Sue was pretty sure that they were even related. But – really? Right now it was pissing him off. How long had she been thinking that he was him? He rubbed his hand over his face, trying not to let it get to him. Trying to sound calm. Which he should be. It's not that big a deal. Just annoying. "So. Should I, like, apologize for having taken advantage of you, because you though you were boning Captain America? Or are we cool, babe?"

"See, _babe_. I should have noted _that_ , too. I don't think he'd ever use that word. And – god, no. I – I mean, I don't exactly _remember_ it – but I'm 75% sure that I didn't go with you because I thought you were him. God. Do you even know the man? He's not one-nighter material and, well, I'm not _relationship_ material. Yeah, we're good. Definitely."

Well, that was something. Though it irked him maybe just ever so slightly that the girl had had no idea who he was, apparently. And that she would do a one night stand with him but thought Captain Precious above it. Wasn't that kind of like a hidden insult? He shouldn't think too much of it, probably. "No boyfriend coming to hunt me down, then?"

She snorted. "Nah, you're safe. And you? Girlfriend or something?"

He grabbed a pretty old-looking banana and started playing with it. She really hadn't heard of him, had she. He had a reputation after all. Why was he so irked by that? "Nope. I'm a free spirit."

"Yes, me, too. Well, then. Johnny. Sorry for the confusion, I guess. But I should get back in the lab." And, after a pause she added. "Oh, why did you think it was Jane you slept with?"

He started peeling the banana half-heartedly. Somehow he was less cheerful now, and she sounded so chipper. Weird. "Just the Thor-comment, I guess. Thought he had to be the boyfriend, if you didn't want me to talk to him. Well, then. I gotta go, too. See ya around."

"Yeah, bye."

He stared at the mobile for a minute, bore putting it in the pocket of his pants. He turned to leave the kitchen, but his eyes immediately sought out her bra. White with black lace. And singed. His grin crept back up his face. He pulled out a chair, got on it and pulled the bra down, staring at it for a moment. Then he pulled out his phone.

Darcy received the first text message from him a mere five minutes after their first phone conversation. First it was as a picture of him, with her bra – oh god, she was sure her jaw hit the ground – between his teeth, and small _flames_ dancing on the edge of it. The next came mere seconds after that. ' _So you have a pretty picture to remember me by and to go with my name for your address book. And what can I save your number under?'_ Well. It wouldn't be the last message she got from Johnny Storm.


End file.
